


It'll Take Some Getting Used To

by Serialsidekick03



Category: Our Skyy (TV), พี่ว้ากตัวร้ายกับนายปีหนึ่ง | SOTUS: The Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, Moving In Together, Overthinking, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, again?? on that last one, hand holding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serialsidekick03/pseuds/Serialsidekick03
Summary: As much as Arthit wished they would, things don't just fall into place once Kongpob returns from his study abroad program. It takes time, hesitation, and some awkwardness for them to find a rhythm.
Relationships: Oon Arthit Rojnapat/Kong Kongpob Suthiluck
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	1. Car Ride Home

**Author's Note:**

> Here we discuss the various ways Kongpob and Arthit relearn how to live together after two years living apart because I refuse to believe it was easy. This will not be a completely linear plotline but it is all part of the process of reconnecting. I'll update the tags as needed and with each chapter, but I do not foresee anything that would warrant a ratings change above teen nor a change of archive warnings (unless I write in a bad mood. I take no responsibility for the character death that might result from that).

For a day that Arthit had been looking forward to for two years, Arthit had done a spectacular job of ruining it—at least in his own eyes. Every call, video or voice, of the last couple of months had been committed to planning and fantasizing about this day. He had walked himself through Kongpob’s arrival time and plan for the day so many times that he could repeat it verbatim. The only thing that could possibly derail the perfect moment was Arthit’s own thoughts and lack of words

The silence spoke for itself. No matter how Arthit had tried to excuse it—surely they had silences before—the unease hung heavy. It had been a third wheel since he picked Kongpob up from the airport. He tried to tell himself that it was a comfortable silence and that Kongpob was just tired from the flight. Convincing himself of that grew increasingly more difficult with each passing moment.

Every few seconds, Arthit found himself stealing glances at Kongpob. In his silence, the other had switched between playing on his phone or gazing out the window. When he caught Arthit looking, he flashed him that stupid but charming and brilliant smile that never failed to make Arthit feel a million emotions at once. Kongpob was not uncomfortable in the unusual scene, or at least he did not show he was. Slouched in his seat with an elbow on the car door, he was the picture of ease. He left a hand hanging between the gear shirt and his seat. The casual air of it was driving Arthit mad with an urge to grab his fiancé’s hand.

Arthit was left in a silent debate if he should give in to the urge or pretend that he did not notice it. Part of him knew that the hand was there for him but something held him back. A meek but annoyingly influential voice told him that Kongpob had just left it there with no intent. It kept Arthit’s own hand in place, clutching the steering wheel with more force than necessary. Arthit could not recall if this was an old struggle or one born out of their relationship over the past two years. Would he have debated himself on holding Kongpob’s hand before? Arthit did not know, but he did know that if Kongpob really wanted it, he would have been more insistent on it.

The silence settled heavier with every second. Arthit had begun to consider small talk or the radio as good ways to break it. He abhorred both options. Luckily, Kongpob’s phone broke it for them.

Apologetically, he shot Arthit a glance as he checked the caller id. “Guess I forgot to call as soon as I landed.”

Arthit did not have to ask to know he was referring to one of his new friends. Everyone in Thailand was already informed of Kongpob’s arrival as soon as the plane landed, courtesy of Arthit, and was waiting back at the apartment for the welcome home party. Arthit hardly acknowledged Kongpob’s eyes in fear of showing his displeasure. “Answer it. If it's who I think, she won’t stop calling until she gets a response.”

With a sigh, Kongpob did as he was bid and answered the call, switching languages to accommodate his friend. Arthit tried to tune out the conversation that he understood little of anyways. The little he did understand felt like an intrusion. He could block out the conversation until he heard his name; this would warrant his attention at once However, he rarely understood the context in which he was mentioned. The first few times his name was mentioned, Arthit had turned to face Kongpob with an arched eyebrow. Each time he was assured it was nothing of importance with a soft smile and a shake of Kongpob’s head. Eventually, Arthit learned not to turn although he did wonder why he was the topic of the conversation. It should not have bothered him, but it did. He had heard Kongpob talk more over this call than he had the whole time since picking him up.

Arthit huffed a breath as they hit traffic and dropped his hand to the middle console. That seemed to be the move Kongpob was waiting for. Within seconds of the drop, Kongpob instinctively swooped in to grab Arthit’s hand and intertwine their fingers without breaking the conversation he was holding. He tugged their connected hand to his lap, experimenting with his hold by loosening and tightening his grip.

Shocked and ashamed that he had not thought of it before, Arthit stole a glance and was caught in the act. His mortification was only added to when Kongpob met his glance and raised their hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Arthit’s hand. Arthit tried not to tense, to relax into the familiar anchoring hold that he had long missed as he turned his focus back to the expanse of cars in front of him. Kongpob eventually lowered their hands but his hold did not lessen. 

Arthit did his best not to glance over when Kongpob fell silent for a minute. Considering his excitable friends, it was possible he was just stuck listening to a long rant. After the pause, Kongpob chuckled an okay and issued a goodbye before hanging up the call.

“P’Arthit,” called Kongpob with a slight hesitation hanging in his breath.

Arthit hummed in acknowledgment.

“They say hello and apologize for stealing me away. I wasn’t expecting the call to be that long.”

Arthit nodded as if it had not bothered him. “It’s okay. We were not in the middle of a conversation anyways.”

Arthit realized his mistake as soon as he uttered the words. Nervously, he glanced over to see if his slip was caught. His check went unnoticed, so Arthit tried to brush off his fear, hoping Kongpob would too. His hopes were futile.

“Oh, P’. Did you want to talk? I thought it would be too early for you?”

Recognizing his poor morning attitude before noticing the sappiness of his next statement, Arthit grumbled “Never for you.”

Kongpob caught it though. “What was that?” he teased with a pull at Arthit’s hand.

“Nothing.”

“Say it again.”

“No,” Arthit insisted with a scowl before giving in as he always did. “Never for you.”

“Oh, say it again! I didn’t hear you.”

“Kongpob!”

Kongpob erupted into laughter, the kind that was strong enough to be felt by even being in the same room—let alone connected by hands. 

They fell silent again but Arthit was sure he could break this one if he wanted to, comforted by the constant hold on his hand. It was not complete silence. Once the spell was broken it was easier to drop sporadic comments. This was a comfortable silence. Maybe not what silence used to mean for them but this—this Arthit could do.


	2. Out of Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: this has been on paper for weeks and I was simply too lazy to type it up or do any editing.  
> If anyone is actually reading this, I promise I did not forget and have a general idea for the following parts.

“Kongpob, where do you want this?” Arthit asked about a framed photo that he pulled out of the luggage, but it felt more like asking where do you want me?

Arthit has been attempting to help unpack Kongpob’s belongings for the past hour. His help, however, ended up being more of fumbling and hovering over the open luggage. Some items from the bags were easy to place. They fit perfectly into their spots of two years ago. Kongpob also had seemingly acquired more things than the empty spaces he left behind. Arthit could not comprehend how he could have more of Kongpob in his life as he struggled to make room for it all.

“I’ll take it over here,” replied Kongpob as he briefly glanced up from his task and held his hand out for the frame.

As Arthit crossed the room to hand the frame over, he tripped over a spare pair of shoes in the walkway. They had been discarded in his own clumsy attempt to help unpack Kongpob’s luggage. A little to the left and they would be out of the way. If he had thought to adjust a step to the right, he could have avoided the new intrusion. Arthit glared at the offending object as though it was anyone else’s fault but his own that they did not have a set place in the room.

“Are you okay, P’Arthit?” 

Arthit could only avoid Kongpob’s eyes in order to prevent further embarrassment by taking a sudden interest in the corner of the bed.“Fine,” he muttered with a huff of breath as he held out the frame.

Kongpob let his hand brush against Arthit’s as he accepted the hand-off. “Thank you.”

Instinctively, Arthit glanced up before he could realize what he was doing. Easily he was lost in Kongpob’s easy grin and casually, adoring gaze. It was too domestic and intense even after all these years. After two years separated, it was even more striking in person than it had ever been over the pixilated video calls. Kongpob did not seem to realize the effect he had. It came too naturally to him.

Kongpob had taken to rearranging their room without difficulty. He strode around with a misstep from the door to the bed while carrying enough things to obstruct his vision, still able to recall exactly how many steps it would take. As though no time had passed, his hands returned the little mementos and pieces of their life that he had taken with him to their proper spots. Astray objects on the floor proved no obstacle for him; he simply dodged them and later returned to right them. At Arthit’s fumbles, he hid a chuckle behind a concerned check-in.

Arthit could only wish for that comfort, but old patterns were hard to fall into. In every step, he felt Kongpob’s eyes on him as an added pressure not to mess up. Arthit tried to avoid that constant gaze despite it distracting him with each second. Every time he did give in and meet it, he froze with a rapidly beating heart that was trying again to become accustomed to that constant love. Kongpob often gave him the respite of turning away first. Arthit could not anticipate Kongpob’s steps, at least not like he used to be able to. Blaming it on the walkway, certainly it had narrowed in two years, he had bumped into Kongpob each time he tried to pass without fail. Kongpob dismissed it with a sidestep and a fond shake of his head. For every item he put away, Kongpob put away five. Kongpob did not comment on any of it.

“P’Arthit,” called Kongpob, serving as a gentle reminder that Arthit had yet to move since they brushed hands.

Arthit hummed as he shifted his gaze once again so it was not aligned with Kongpob’s. 

“It’s getting late. Do you have work tomorrow?” Kongpob inquired lightly without letting his tone indicate which answer he would prefer. 

Replying with a deep sigh and a nod, Arthit knew what was coming. As stiff as the moment was, he could live in it forever. The warmth of Kongpob’s smile canceled out every one of Arthit’s grimaces at his own missteps. The off-key tune that Kongpob hummed set the beat of Arthit’s heart as they worked wordlessly on making the room their own again. Fumbles and all, the little scene was of Arthit’s dreams. 

“Do you want to get ready for bed? I can finish up here.” Kongpob dropped the dreaded offer as expected.

Arthit smothered his disappointment, knowing it was a good call even if he despised it. He had not been much help there anyway. The dismissal still stung. “I’ll just take a shower,” Arthit said as he turned to search for the towel that he had thrown aside that morning in his haste to leave on time to meet Kongpob.

“Hung it on the hook,” Kongpob informed him with a roll of his eyes.

Of course, he had. He had been home for less than a whole day and was already cleaning up Arthit’s messes. 

“Thanks,” Arthit mumbled as he turned for the bathroom. He felt Kongpob’s gaze on him until he shut the door behind him. Consciously, he left it unlocked, just in case.

True to his word, Kongpob had finished unpacking the items of the last open luggage. While in the mood, he had started picking up the everyday clutter around the room. Spare the addition of a few items, it was like he had never left. With his unpacking and cleaning done, he rested at the foot of the bed as he scrolled through his phone. Hearing Arthit open the bathroom door, Kongpob looked up with a bright smile that had Arthit not expected it would make his skin crawl.

As Kongpob took his turn in the bathroom, Arthit tried to get his bag ready for the next day but found that Kongpob had already done that for him. His phone had already been plugged into the charger. Office clothes hung on a hanger by the closet, ironed and ready in case Arthit slept in. A note by the fridge instructed Arthit not to worry about packing a lunch; Kongpob would drop by to meet him. There was nothing to do. Kongpob had thought of it all. 

Equally as touched as he was unsettled by the return to the old routine that he had forgotten, Arthit crawled into bed. It took a conscious effort for Arthit to leave the lights on for Kongpob. It did not take the same effort to keep himself to one side of the bed. In two years, the other side had never been touched unless it was to change the sheets. Arthit laid listening to the water run and hoping that tomorrow would be easier but not less thralling.

The water shut off, and perhaps childishly, Arthit turned on his side and pretended to be asleep. Although he laid too straight and was breathing too fast, he hoped to be convincing. If Kongpob had the slightest of mind, Arthit would be called out for the act.

Kongpob’s footsteps sounded softly in the silent room. He took caution to make them even lighter as he approached the bed, presumably when he saw Arthit ‘sleeping.’ Arthit counted each step as he anxiously waited for them to stop and for a weight to be added to the other side of the bed. The footsteps stopped, but the bed did not dip with the added weight. 

Arthit waited a few minutes for Kongpob to join him before peeking through his eyelids. The first thing he noted was that the lights were now out. The dark at least provided cover for the crack in his already imperfect act. Kongpob hovering at the foot of the bed was the second thing he noted. 

With his hair dried and having dressed, Kongpob had nothing stopping him from joining Arthit in bed yet. In the dark, his expression was harder to make out, but the direction of his silhouette suggested he was staring at his empty side of the bed. He made no move to pull back the covers or even to walk away and do something else. He just stood and stared.

Silently, Arthit wondered if he should give a sign that he was still awake. Would that startle Kongpob out of his thoughts? Arthit did not need to see Kongpob’s expression fully to know he was biting through the first layer of his bottom lip as he ran through his thoughts. He was on the verge of calling out a request for the other’s thoughts when Kongpob reanimated, taking quiet steps to his side of the bed. 

Finally, Kongpob took his rightful place. His deep release of breath went unmuffled and too loud. Despite joining Arthit, he was too far. A noticeable gap separated them, and Kongpob made no further attempts to close it. Kongpob was too stiff with his arms straight at his side and his legs perfect parallel lines. He stuck to one side of an invisible line that gave Arthit more than 75% of the bed.

Arthit watched from the corner of his eye, doing his best not to shift for a better view. He risked being caught looking in order to discern what was off. There was a tension that Arthit could not place. Nothing had gone wrong as far as he knew. The building pit in his stomach dissipated as he realized what it was with an almost comical oh.

Kongpob was not nearly as settled as he seemed. Arthit wanted to feel relieved but this was unacceptable. It was their bed and that distance was too foreign. They could be hesitant and slow to get back to themselves in all other matters but this one.

Arthit took a second for a breath of courage before rolling on his side and scooting over the imaginary line splitting the bed. With his head on Kongpob’s shoulder, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the familiar position. When Kongpob released his own long-held breath and adjusted so his arms wrapped around Arthit a few moments later, Arthit happily adapted with a small content grin that was too radiant to be done in sleep.

“Goodnight, P’Arthit,” Kongpob whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of Arthit’s head.

Without waiting a second, Arthit dropped his cheap ruse and returned the sentiment. “Goodnight, Kongpob.”


End file.
